


A buttercup plucked from the side of the road

by darlingimabard



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Family Fluff, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, THESE CHARACTERS ARE GOING TO GET SUPPORTIVE AND LOVING PARENTS SO HELP ME GOD, jaskier gets adopted, tired single gay dads, vesemir will eventually get that lovin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:34:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24005167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingimabard/pseuds/darlingimabard
Summary: Alfred Pankratz is barely two years into his professorship when he finds a boy passed out by the side of the road leading to Oxenfurt. A small, adorable child with a buttercup tucked into his hair.Alfred Pankratz is 27 years old and can be described as many things, whimsical, flighty, headstrong but not as father material. He's not fit to be a father, he's not. He'll take Jaskier to the healer and then the orphanage as soon as the healer is done with him. Aforementioned healer raises an amused eyebrow, “You’ve named him?”Fuck he's already named him.  Mentally, he rearranges his plans for the next decade or two.By sunset Alfred has already filled out the necessary papers, informed his colleagues, bought new children's clothes and cleared out a room in his quarters. He brushes his new son’s, Jaskier’s, hair out of his sleeping face and sighs a deeply resigned sigh. It will be the first of many.(or, local gay disaster poetry professor becomes the tired single dad of this weird and maybe not entirely human kid he found)the expansion of my tired adoptive dads posts on tumblr
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Vesemir (The Witcher)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 409





	A buttercup plucked from the side of the road

**Author's Note:**

> i had this idea a few days ago, i posted to tumblr where i was only encouraged, here is the result, the start of a planned 20-30 chapter fic. enjoy 
> 
> https://darlingimabard.tumblr.com/post/616559928056954880/jaskier-and-geralt-both-have-tired-adoptive-dads
> 
> https://darlingimabard.tumblr.com/post/617104918100295680/the-ongoing-saga-of-alfred-pankratz

There's a chill seeping through the air, winter will be arriving soon and Alfred Pankratz pulls his cloak tighter around his body, the cold always getting to him faster because of his skinny frame. He has at least a few more hours of riding left before he reaches Oxenfurt's south gate, the tall forests and sandy coasts of Kerack have been very useful for his latest work, at this rate he should have another collection of poems ready to publish by the year’s end. There is little rush though, he has only held the title Professor of Oxenfurt for a year and a half and the dean of the faculty of arts has made clear that he was more than happy with the quality of Alfred’s last book, although made a pointed suggestion to expand his choice of subjects to something a little less…fiery.

He's always enjoyed taking these little trips, he’s been at Oxenfurt ever since he was 14, and 13 years of looking at the same walls can get rather boring but now he has the excuse that they bring in realistic touches that ground his poems in their themes of nature. The stillness of the landscape a nice contrast against the noise and movement of Oxenfurt, and though Alfred is always apologetic to his teaching assistant for these impulsive outings, amongst many other things, he can hardly bring himself to regret them when he’s on the back of his sweet mare Apple, an endless horizon as his muse. The last piece of empty land before the start of civilization in the form of White Bridge village stretches out before him and Alfred directs Apple off the road and into a lightly wooded area before dismounting, intent on enjoying the beauty of nature for a few more hours. The gods knows his class could use the extra time to work on their submissions for this week. The philosophy students were lying when they said there is no such thing as bad art.

He wanders around, scanning intently for anything to use as inspiration, which is the only reason he even notices the odd looking pile on the ground. Alfred’s similes about the colours of the fallen leaves leave his mind completely when he realises that what he thought was a rather large pile of leaves and branches is upon further inspection actually covering the prone form of a young boy.

Alfred stands there, stupefied for a bit. What, the fuck.

There’s a child.

There’s a child in front of him.

Covered in sticks and leaves, in the woods. There’s a child.

In the middle of these nowhere woods off the side of the road. How did the child even get here? There’s no one around for miles.

Okay, Alfred, do not panic, just stay calm and wake child up and take him to White Bridge, he probably just wandered off while playing. But there’s no way a child could have walked that far. _What the fuck did we say about panicking Alfred?_

Okay, its fine, I’ve got this. His hands run nervously through his hair before Alfred crouches down and brushes off the shrubbery covering the boy. He’s dressed in what looks like they were once expensive clothes but are now dirtied and ripped. Turning him over, the boy’s eyes remain closed but Alfred can now see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his pale face and his mop of dark hair, which oddly has a small buttercup tucked in it, behind the child’s ear.

Alfred delicately shakes him, there’s no response. A firmer shake, nothing. Okay, that is maybe less fine. He pulls down a stained sleeve to check the boy’s pulse but pulls away almost immediately. Not only is the child’s skin ice cold, the kind of cold that comes from days spent outside, but there is a painful looking burn mark stretching across his wrist. The professor scrambles to pick up the thin wrist again, and okay, actually, time to panic Alfred, time to panic _a lot_ because that heartbeat is _far_ too slow.

He’s got his cloak wrapped around the child before he even registers it, and god, Alfred is pretty sure children are supposed to weigh more than that, but he shelves that thought as he needs to figure out how to get the child and him onto Apple. Yes, it is vital that he is holding the child as opposed to slinging him over the back of the saddle. After a bit of frantic manoeuvring, he’s spurring Apple into what some may call a panicked gallop towards Oxenfurt.

Alfred slams open the doors to Oxenfurt Academy’s faculty of medicine with his shoulder, out of breath and panting.

"Alfred! A battering ram now are we-”

The woman’s unimpressed voice cuts off as her eyes land on the bundle in the man’s arms.

"Kayla, he’s cold, really cold, I don’t know how long he was out there but he’s too cold and his heartbeat, it’s slow, I-"

The healer’s demeanour immediately shifts as she registers that she has a patient, face hardening as she steps around the front desk and gestures Alfred to follow her into the healing chambers. He places the child down on one of the many stone tables as Kayla gathers bottles and instruments from the shelves, she makes shooing motions for him to leave as she starts physically examining the child, wincing as she also feels the chill of his skin. Right before he leaves Kayla to her work, for reasons he can't explain, Alfred takes the buttercup from the boy's hair. He’s done his part now, he can go back to his quarters.

He’s been sitting in the small waiting room for 93 minutes now. Twirling the buttercup flower between his fingers, he’s begun mentally reciting regional poetry in their original languages to stave off the all consuming worry ready to devour him. Jaskier he thinks, that's what a buttercup called in some southern languages, Jaskier…that would make a nice name.

"You're still here." she sounds surprised. Alfred is jolted out of his thoughts, almost dropping the small flower in his hands before gently threading it through his doublet button.

"Where else would I be?"

Kayla leans against the doorway, assessing, "You continue to surprise me Alfred, last time you came in here with a broken ankle after you thought your window was a door in a dehydrated daze and now you have a child but I’m fairly sure you haven’t suddenly gained an interest in the fairer sex”

"Oh, no, he’s not my mine." That clears some of her confusion, Professor Pankratz’s first book made very clear his appreciation for the male form, but doesn’t explain how he acquired a child, Alfred elaborates, "I found him, as I was riding back, near the split of the Pontar River, he was just lying by the side of the road in some woods."

Kayla blinks at him for a few seconds, silently mouthing to his words to herself, _you found him by the side of the road?_

It takes her a few moments to form words again and she seems amused as she asks Alfred "So why is he here then?"

He stares back at Kayla, horrified and confused, what did she expect him to do? Just leave a child in the middle of nowhere, especially when he was so clearly injured?

"There’s three towns between where you described and Oxenfurt, you could have dropped him there and been done with it."

Would she believe that he was charmed by her extraordinary prowess as a healer from their last meeting?

Ah yeah, he didn’t think so. Alfred doesn't know if he likes the growing amusement he can see in the healer, she keeps pointing out the logic sized holes in his arguments.

"And what exactly are you planning on doing with the child?"

It's an obvious answer, he's going to take him to the orphanage, Alfred can’t exactly be considered a father, he's barely a functioning professor. He would be a terrible father, but more importantly, "Is Jaskier alright?"

She blinks at him again, confused before a very pleased smile creeps over her face.

" _The child_ is malnourished and I can’t figure out what caused his burns but he hadn’t frozen yet and my salve seems to be working on his burns so he should be fine with a few weeks of good food and care.”

The words lift a weight in Alfred’s chest he didn’t even know he was carrying. Kayla raises an eyebrow at him, clearly not done, “You’ve named him?"

Wait. No. _Fuck_. He's _named_ him.

"Wait-wait it's not-I'm not-I can't-" Kayla looks as if his floundering is the funniest thing she's seen all month. It probably is. God damn it. "I'm not fit to be a father Kayla, you said it yourself, I’m not exactly well put together."

The healer softens at his words, approaching to place a hand on his shoulder,

“You need to learn how to take breaks when you work but that just means you’re passionate and dedicated. I've seen many worried parents sitting in these waiting rooms Alfred; you look like every single one of them."

He can't, he would be terrible at it.

"I know you artist types always fall hard and fast but that just means that you have so much love in you to give to those who need it. And that little boy looks like he definitely needs it."

She drops her hand to rest it against his chest

“ _Jaskier_ should wake up tomorrow, make your decision by then but give yourself more credit, Alfred, you're a good man, with a good heart, don’t fight it."

With a final pat, she leaves the professor to his thoughts.

He makes his way towards Jaskier's rooms slowly. He looks even smaller, laid out on linen sheets. Instinctively he reaches out to brush the hair out of the boy’s eyes, before stopping himself mid motion.

He thinks about how he found Jaskier out of sight of, but within a few walking paces of the road, the mismatch of foliage that covered the boy in a way that wasn’t natural, as if someone had quickly thrown them on top of him. As if someone had purposely tried to hide the fact that they abandoned a child. He didn’t know he could feel so much anger for people he didn’t know.

He tries to imagine handing the small child before him to the orphanage, never to see him again; the thought hurts like a physical blow.

Alfred lets out a resigned sigh as he feels his soft heart bleed. He lets his hand resume it’s movement and gently pushes the hair out of the sleeping child’s eyes.

Jaskier Pankratz. It has a nice ring to it.

**Author's Note:**

> you read what i was implying right, alfred most definitely published a book full of poetry about how how gay and thirsty and yearning he is. because he is a known thot™ around campus but then again, who amongst the arts faculty isn't?
> 
> come scream with me about this on tumblr, send me your asks and ideas: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/darlingimabard


End file.
